


remember when we cried into the night

by Elenothar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Unexpected friendships, aka what I wish canon had given us, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenothar/pseuds/Elenothar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a princess and the last of the Jedi in three acts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remember when we cried into the night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment on tumblr that Obi-Wan and Leia 'would've got along like a house on fire', to which my brain said 'yes, hello, have a plot bunny'.
> 
> Big thanks to norcumi for betaing and generally being a wonderfully encouraging person.

 

1

Leia Organa met Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time with sand between her teeth and fury in her heart. When her father had suggested that she might find a trip to Tatooine educational, she had scoffed and refused to see the wicked glint of amusement in his eyes as she went anyway. (She had never been able to resist the lure of adventure after all.)

Tatooine was sand, sand, sand and blistering heat under one sun too many, and by the time she reached the coordinates Bail had whispered in her ear with the stern warning not to write them down for any reason, her speeder was gurgling its death note, and the little run-down hut sat squat on the rock in front of her appeared like a sanctuary.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the man that stepped out of the shadow of his dwelling to greet her.

The General studied her, eyes intent under ginger-white brows, and sighed. “And Bail always said _I_ was the reckless one.”

Irritation sparked in her like wildfire, but then he smiled and raised his hand in placation. “Peace, milady. I meant no offense to you or your father.”

“General Kenobi – ” she started, thrown off balance – she hated being caught off guard like this, confronted with people who defied easy analysis; and yet what bothered her more was how little she minded.

“Call me Ben,” he interrupted quietly, but with a subtle air of command that told of days in which his every word had been obeyed. “I haven’t been a general in a long time.” The edges of his lips curled. “Nor ever a voluntary one.”

Leia frowned. “But you’re a hero of the Clone Wars!”

Any shimmer of playfulness evaporated from his face. “Wars don’t make one great, young one.” Again she was startled by the intensity of his gaze that seared right through her. “You would do well to remember that.”

She thought of the blaster strapped to her hip, the freedom of knowing she could defend herself, the many covert meetings of the Rebel Alliance that she’d lately been allowed to be a part of and before that had eavesdropped on anyway. She thought of the boiling hate that filled her veins when she thought of the Empire and the atrocities committed in the name of a tyrant. She thought of her certainty that she was doing the right thing in fighting for what she believed in –

and yet, all certainty faded in the face of a man whose eyes were lined with grief, whose shoulders were weighted with infinite sadness, broken by the last war that had engulfed the galaxy, and all that he had lost.

Then he turned away, and doubts faded again.

“You’d better come in,” he called over his shoulder. “The sandstorm is only going to get worse, and your speeder isn’t going anywhere for the time being.”

For a moment she wondered how he’d known about her speeder, then chastised herself. He was a Jedi – something like this must be child’s play for him.

She didn’t hesitate before entering.

The hovel was as sparse on the inside as it appeared on the outside, and yet there _was_ a sense of homeliness. Ben had gone ahead to the small kitchen area, letting her explore his dwelling without intervention.

 _/It’s a girl/_ echoed in the empty space between them. She turned to find him watching her, for a split second looking very much like a drowning man who’d seen land for the first time in days before his face smoothed out again.

“Tell me young Leia,” Ben said as he poured tea into two chipped and worn cups, “why are you here?”

Leia, who’d been staring at the steaming liquid in consternation – it was already so _unbearably_ hot – glanced at him, but his features were blank, impassive. His poker face would’ve done any politician proud.

“My father sent me. He didn’t tell me why.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Did he give you a message for me?”

“No. He… seemed to think I would benefit from the experience.”

There his lips went again, curling into that wry tilt. “Did he now.”

For want of anything else to do, she finally took a sip of the liquid in her cup, and found to her surprise that despite its warmth it ran down her throat in cooling trails.

She hesitated for a moment longer, then said, “Father used to tell stories about you, you know. Stories about the war.”

 _And its end_.

He raised his eyebrows. “So you’re here for a history lesson? I would’ve expected Bail to make sure you were already aware of the important details.”

She leaned forward, ignoring his sarcasm, eyes intent on his face. “Of course he has, but you’re the only remaining Jedi, Master Kenobi. You lived through events from the other side, and there’s so much we still don’t know about the fall of the Jedi – ”

“You want to hear about the genocide of the Jedi?” he interrupted, his eyes glittering with sudden, shocking coldness. “You want to hear about how in the span of a day all our so-called allies turned from us and watched us be cut down by our former comrades in arms? You want to hear about the younglings that were slaughtered in the Temple regardless of their age and innocence? There’s nothing but pain in the past, and believe me, _Princess_ , you won’t benefit from knowing the gory details.”

Half of Leia is quailing in the wake of his cold anger ( _gods_ , this man could easily be one of the most terrifying people in the galaxy if he so wished), but the other half is railing at his use of her title in that tone of voice, as if it meant she knew nothing about the darkness of the galaxy. Perhaps it wasn’t her smartest decision when she snapped right back. “So all that knowledge in your brilliant mind is just going to be wasted because you can’t bear to think of the past? Do you not think that your silence dishonours their memory?”

For a moment she thought she’d just made a fatal error as his eyes flashed darkly, her fight training recognising the coiled power in his body, and then – he started laughing. There was something slightly unhinged about his mirth, but it seemed true enough.

Ben wiped at his eyes and raised his gaze to her astonished one. “Of course you would say that. Of course.”

For the life of her Leia couldn’t figure out why there was the slightest hint of emphasis on the _you_ , as if she was blind to some terrible irony.

As quick as the flash of laughter had come, soberness returned.

“Be aware that you are the only one I have and will ever make this offer to, Leia Organa. Ask me what you will, and I will answer to the best of my ability.” Shadows played over his face, flirting with the light. “But beware of what you might find here. There are some things I will not tell you, and some things I cannot tell you.”

He leaned back against the pale stone, and the darkness receded. She looked into his eyes, calm again, waiting, and said, “May I have some time to think about my questions?”

Ben smiled. “A wise being knows when not to rush ahead. We have time.”

His approval warmed the part of her which hungered for approval, though she’d thought it long buried. Politics had nothing to do with approval, at least not in the Imperial Senate.

*

She was lying on her back, on the hard bunk that Ben had insisted she take, staring up into the darkness. Sleep had been fitful, her mind too restless and full of questions to settle properly, and she’d been almost grateful when low murmuring in the adjoining room restored her to wakefulness.

“They’re too much alike,” Ben said, voice barely loud enough to hear. He seemed to be talking to someone, and yet she knew there was no one else here.

A short pause followed, then she heard a dry snort. “Getting along didn’t exactly help anyone in the end, did it?”

As quietly as possible, Leia shifted from her position, straining her head to look through the open archway into the main room of the hovel.

Ben was sitting cross-legged on a droopy cushion (and the part of her that had been raised to be a princess could only admire the straightness of his posture), back turned to her as he murmured quietly to himself. For the briefest moment she thought she saw a blue glow at Ben’s side, vanishing into nothing as soon as her eyes tried to tell her there was something _there_.

Then Ben turned around, eyes shadowed in the gloom of the hovel. Maybe she should be afraid. On a strange planet, in a strange man’s dwelling, whose hospitality she had just spurned by listening to what were clearly private thoughts; and she was a bit but mostly she was just curious. Curious about what or who he was talking about. Curious why she felt so at ease in his presence. Curious why echoes of what sounded like his voice still lingered in her mind when she was sure she’d never met him before in her life.

“Who were you talking to?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m simply mad?”

Leia shrugged. “You might be. But you don’t seem mad to me.”

The smile, when it came, looked startlingly out of place on his worn face, and yet it was easily, effortlessly beautiful in the way of a flower that only allowed its blossoms to bloom once per year. Irrationally, she found herself thinking that she would gladly spend her life trying to make this man smile.

“For the record,” he said, and she could swear his eyes were twinkling though it was far too dark to tell, “I’m not. Though you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone on this dustball who’d agree with me.”

Leia squinted at him through the darkness. He didn’t _seem_ upset by that fact, but… “Doesn’t that make you lonely?”

If she hadn’t been watching him quite so intently she’d have missed his little start. A strange tension suddenly hung in the air, full of electric memory.

“There are worse things than being lonely,” Ben finally replied, a finality in his tone that was confirmed by his next words. “You should go back to sleep, Leia. You must be tired.”

From most people this would’ve set her teeth on edge – Leia Organa did _not_ like being told what to do – and for a moment rebellious notions stirred, but then he quirked his lips and added, “And a word to the wise; while it may be far from me to condemn the time-honoured tradition of eavesdropping, there’s always one rule: don’t get caught.”

Leia went back to bed – she knew when she was beaten at her own game. While she was left with even more burning questions than before, somehow there was a certainty in her heart that she’d get no answers from him. At least not right now.

*

The next morning the wind still lashed around the little hovel, only the sound of deadly sand hitting the sides of the dwelling interrupting its mournful howling. As soon as she had relieved herself in the small ‘fresher compartment, Ben was there, holding out a steaming cup and a wrapped ration bar. She was almost certain he hadn’t slept.

Staring down at the ration bar, Leia suddenly felt small next to a man who was as seasoned warrior as he was a diplomat, whose experiences outstripped her own in every regard.

She bit into the dry bar and almost gagged, fighting to keep her face even.

“I know, they’re disgusting,” Ben said casually, already having finished his own. “One would think with everything we’ve accomplished we’d be able to figure out a better way of preserving foodstuffs. I would offer you something else but I wasn’t expecting company during this storm.”

Leia looked up sharply, wondering if she was being mocked, but he wasn’t even looking at her, busying himself with the empty cups.

Outside, the wind howled on.

“So what do you do when you’re stuck in here for days?”

A flash of humour passed over his face. “The same things I always do. Think. Meditate. Attempt not to murder the precious few plants that have survived under my care so far. Fix the things that keep insisting on falling apart.”

Leia tried to imagine an existence only consisting of these things and had to grimace.

“When you get to be my age running around and just generally wasting energy isn’t quite as appealing anymore,” Ben pointed out wryly, but she still felt there was something slightly _off_ about his answer.

“You don’t seem to be the sitting down type to me.”

His eyes glinted strangely. “Do I not? I must be doing something wrong then.”

She kept regarding him thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head. This line of conversation wouldn’t go anywhere, so she changed track. “I thought about what to ask you.”

 _That_ got his attention.

“Oh?”

She took a deep breath. “I only have one question. Why did the Jedi fail?”

Absolute silence met her words. Then Ben exhaled softly, closing his eyes. “What makes you think I know the answer to that question?”

“You might not know _the_ answer,” Leia said cautiously, “but a man like you, spending your days thinking for however many years you’ve been on this dustball… you must’ve thought about it.”

From within the folds of his robe, Ben withdrew a silver cylinder, glinting dully in the light. It fit into his palm perfectly. “Do you know what this is?”

“A lightsaber,” she breathed, reverent gaze focused on the gleaming handle. She hadn’t ever seen one before, though many called it the greatest weapon ever invented.

Ben nodded. “An elegant weapon, from a more civilised age. A Jedi is trained in its use from infancy, until it feels like an extension of ourselves rather than a separate weapon. But crucially, we are not only taught how to use a lightsaber, but _when_ to use it. The basis of a Jedi’s life is peace, and violence would always only be a last resort.” He snorted bitterly. “Then the Clone Wars started, and suddenly we were fighting in a brutal, bloody war with no end in sight. Many of us died. All of us changed – hardened under the demands of constant fighting.” Ben’s gaze seared through her with all the intensity of a sun gone nova. “The war _broke_ us, Leia, it shattered what it meant to be a Jedi. Not only because fighting and killing became commonplace, the norm rather than the exception, but also because we got pulled into politics. The Order lost its autonomy from the Senate, got too tightly bound to the strings politicians were pulling, until we couldn’t fulfil our mandate anymore – we couldn’t help the people in the Republic and beyond because we were too busy fighting a war and jumping wherever the Supreme Chancellor told us to.”

Ben sighed, even greater weariness descending upon a face that seemed far away. “Of course, the Order also wasn’t blameless. Now I believe that we became too rigid in our ways, too uncompromising, and too bound to tradition when more drastic action should’ve been called for. Just as my old Master had told the Council decades ago.”

He stood up, and laid a hand on Leia’s shoulder, before moving to the next room. “Make sure you don’t make the same mistakes as we did, milady.”

*

By the third day of being confined to such a limited space, Leia felt ready to climb the walls, and Ben had taken to watching her fidget with a rather irritating amount of amusement. Finally, when she was about to start screaming at inanimate objects, he powered down the datapad that had been casting a pale blue glow over his features and quirked his lips at her.

“How about a game of Sabacc?” he offered, rising from his seat to rummage in one of the drawers scattered about. “I rarely get the chance to indulge myself these days.”

At this point Leia would’ve jumped at the change to do _anything_ other than sitting around and twiddling her thumbs, but she couldn’t help raising her eyebrows and commenting, “Sabacc, Ben? A bit of a disreputable game isn’t it?”

Ben leaned closer, as if imparting a secret. “All the best games are.” He drew back and began to shuffle a clearly well-worn deck of cards. “Do you know Corellian Gambit?”

Leia nodded. Winter had always preferred Corellian Gambit to other versions, gods knew why. Though she’d also usually won, so that might have something to do with it.

They began to play.

An hour later the half of her mind that had been convinced that he couldn’t be too good at the game because he was, as the histories had it, a fair, gentle man who would never use underhanded tricks, had been thoroughly squashed as he won the pot for the third time in a row.

She scowled at her cards, which unfortunately didn’t magically turn into better ones. “How do you _do_ it?”

“Age and experience, young one,” he said rather smugly. “It’s a game of strategy after all.”

When she opened her mouth to protest – she was usually _good_ at strategy, dammit – he added, “You have to remember that you’re not just playing the game, you’re playing your _opponent_. You wonder why I know how to play Sabacc? All Jedi are taught the game when we’re young – it’s a wonderful diagnostic tool.”

She looked at her cards (still disappointing) and then back at him. “Or maybe you just don’t want to admit that you’re a sneaky bastard who knows how to play dirty.”

His laughter filled the entire room.

*

The outside world had returned to deceptive tranquillity. Not a single gust of wind disturbed the sand as far as the eye could see. They’d spent the morning fixing her speeder, and she knew that meant a parting was imminent.

Standing next to her in the doorway, Ben said, “You need to leave. Even these few days were a dangerous risk to take.”

Leia tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders to protect from the suns’ glare. “It’s not one I regret taking.”

She knew he was smiling without turning to look at him. “May the Force be with you, Leia Organa.”

“And with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

If he started at hearing his old name he didn’t show it, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in his changeable eyes when he gently bowed to her. She smiled in return, hoping the curve of her lips could show all that she couldn’t voice out loud and yet he needed to hear.

No matter how great the temptation, once she’d climbed onto her speeder, Leia didn’t look back. If she had, she would’ve seen the lone figure of the last of the Jedi standing motionless until one of his two last hopes had vanished on the shimmering horizon, a dark silhouette distorted by the heat.

2

Their second meeting was all the shorter for their increased familiarity and the only thing it brought was pain. Mired in a morass of grief and guilt, she had done nothing for the first few moments that her cell door had sprung open to admit a familiar figure in dusty robes and two stormtroopers.

Leia stared at Ben, and this time it was she who was drowning and Ben who was the land.

She sat up, aches racing through her body and then there was a firm hand on her arm, guiding her to her feet and two gentle eyes gazing at her with compassionate understanding. She had not broken under Vader’s torture, had not screamed out loud at her home’s destruction, but now she wanted to weep and cry and _be_.

“Come, milady,” Ben said quietly, and then his voice whispered in her mind _/There will be time for grief later. We need you./_

Once she stood on her own two legs without shaking, a blaster pressed into her hand, he smiled at her, that same rare blossom smile he had once bestowed to her on Tatooine, and then he was gone, vanished as fast as he had come.

Her other two rescuers, who’d finally got rid of those awful helmets, shrugged at each other, and while the shorter one introduced themselves as Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, the taller one muttered something about ‘crazy hermits’ and suddenly Leia wanted to laugh. The greatest Jedi of his generation and this was what he would be remembered as? But there was true humour there as well, bubbling in her heart, because she knew that Ben wouldn’t mind, would probably even find it amusing.

All humour fled, when less than an hour later she had to watch Vader murder the last link to her past with what she imagined had to be a smile under his pitch-black mask.

_/Run, Luke, run!/_

And then quieter, _/You are strong, Leia Organa. Remember how to be weak. Believe./_

Her eyes were dry when their ship finally left the hanger, Luke’s grief smothering the air around them, and she was too tired to weep, to think.

There would be time for grief later.

3

Ben shimmered into blue existence in front of her eyes and Leia couldn’t decide whether to scream at him or cry for joy. She had never expected to find warmth in the desolation of Hoth, two months on the planet enough to make her hate it with equal fervour as Tatooine.

He didn’t look as old as the last time she’d seen him, mere minutes before his death, but rather appeared as she’d first known him; some ginger still flecked his hair, and his posture was yet unbowed.

“I appear as what you most strongly remember me as,” he explained, his voice still the same save for the slight echo that now followed his words, as if they were scattering to the winds.

“You’re real?” she whispered; though she could feel the truth of his existence all around her, she needed to hear him say it.

He smiled, and raised a brow. “Do you not think you’re simply mad?”

“Ass,” she returned without rancour, and now a smile was blooming on her face in response to the teasing humour in his eyes.

“It took most people a lot longer to figure that out,” he agreed amiably, folding his hands in his robes.

Silence fell, as she kept glancing at his floating form, then away again, just to check he was still there. Then she pinched herself for good measure, but no rude awakening followed.

Ben waited patiently for her to regroup her wits.

“So you are a ghost now?” she finally asked, gesturing towards his transparent form.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he replied, amusement colouring his voice once more, “but essentially, yes.”

“Is that… normal?”

He snorted lightly. “I have long since given up on hoping my life would ever be normal.” His gaze took on a far away sheen. “As far as I’m aware, I’m only the second Jedi to have achieved this feat for hundreds of years. If you are asking whether other Force-sensitives could, in theory, follow this path then the answer is yes.”

Again, his voice echoed in her mind long after the sound of it had been torn away by silence. _/You must be ready, before I can teach this gift. One day, Force willing, you may be./_

She shivered at the heaviness of the future in his words. Leia generally preferred not to think too much about the mystic powers Luke was so keen on learning. “How do you do that? Talk _in_ my mind?”

“That,” he said, not without regret, “is a question to be answered another day.”

As she gazed at him, his form wavered, growing weaker and more translucent. She opened her mouth to ask him to stay, to beg for more answers, but no words passed her frozen lips.

“Don’t tell Luke yet, young one.” His voice now came from far away. “He needs to discover his faith on his own.”

She nodded at the empty air. Leia Organa had found hers long ago.

(4)

The first face Leia Amidala Organa Skywalker Solo sees in the blue veil of the Force isn’t that of her mother, or her father, or even her fallen son (all of that comes later), but the gentle smile of a man she would’ve known better in a kinder life.


End file.
